How a debilitating vegetarian diet robbed me of all of life’s pleasures — and harmed my health

Diagnosis: gastritis. At its worst, the erosion of the stomach caused by bacteria is constantly painful and entirely intolerable.

The result: a depressing diet that’s robbed me of the ability – or more accurately, the privilege – to eat all of life’s pleasures.

Dairy? Gone. Meat, red or otherwise? So long. Anything fried, fatty and acidic – including my beloved ketchup – is now a part of my past. No sugar, no salt and nothing that can be easily bought from a store is allowed inside my digestive system. My options are now very limited, and the few things I am allowed to eat seem to be barred from having any flavour. This diet isn’t just a suggestion. Eating anything on this list would immediately cause excruciating pain to return.

According to a 2015 Vancouver Humane Society poll, eight per cent of Canadians identify as being vegetarian and another 25 per cent say they’re trying to eat less meat. I struggle to comprehend how these people live their day-to-day lives. It’s not as though the concept of vegetarianism is anything new to me. It’s just that pre-sickness, I was essentially a carnivore. And so, this forced transition to a near-vegetarian diet is a horrifying one: filled with food-fuelled hallucinations, tense social interactions and uncomfortable weight loss.

Science seems to be leaning more towards telling us that the only way for human beings to live long, healthy lives is to kneel down beside a herd of cows and chow down on the same grass. No, humans weren’t meant to walk with the dinosaurs, but rather cower with the cattle. Numerous studies have warned us about the side effects of eating meat. The latest, from the World Health Organization, claims that red meat is linked to cancer. Dairy isn’t safe either, apparently, and what we heard as children about it strengthening our bones was simply a cruel lie.

My life while following these guidelines has become a cesspool of lovelorn tears. Breakfast and the fruit smoothie that accompanies it have become the most enjoyable part of the day — and that’s only because, except for the use of coconut milk, it’s the one thing that hasn’t changed.

Then comes the mid-morning snack.

Every day, I stare at a plastic container filled with tasteless raw spinach and force-feed myself. I think about how far I’ve fallen. Admittedly, I had never eaten spinach before this fiasco. It became my only refuge. Eating a healthy portion helps stop the pain, even in its initial stages. Even then, I still can’t swallow it without a healthy gulp of water.

This forced transition to a near-vegetarian diet is a horrifying one: filled with food-fuelled hallucinations, tense social interactions and uncomfortable weight loss

Lunch is restricted to grilled chicken breast — cooked plain without spices or salt, of course — and quinoa. I have had to be assured (repeatedly) that I wasn’t eating birdseed when I was first introduced to this new staple of my diet. And late night fuel has come in the form of a vegetable-based soup that’s been puréed. A lot of my new diet comes in liquid form. And that’s probably one of the reasons it’s taken such a toll on my body.

I lost 15 pounds in one month. Extreme weight loss probably wasn’t ideal for someone who only weighed 160 pounds. That’s nearly 10 per cent of my weight. The last time I weighed 145 pounds was before I went through puberty.

Some of the weight has disappeared from my arms. Most of it, expectedly, is gone from my waist. I still can’t help but giggle when, like an outdated Three Stooges gag, I unbutton my pants at the waist, and watch gravity send them shooting down to my ankles.

Early on, it is difficult to avoid wasting away mentally, too.

When I invite a few friends over for a sports night, I don’t forget about our normal ritual, which usually involves us getting to the bottom of several pizza boxes while watching men beat each other to a bloody pulp on pay-per-view. I specifically warn them that the pizza element would have to be absent from this night’s equation because what could be worse than staring at that sizzling, cheesy goodness and not being able to have a bite?

They show up at my door with three pizza boxes. With friends like these …

For four hours I inhale those wonderful fumes. For four hours, I hear them speak about going for ice cream and hamburgers at a later date. For four hours, I think nonchalantly about ripping their throats out.

I wake up sweating that night after dreaming I was eating ice cream. I could almost taste it. I am going through a detox, and I am losing my mind.

The hallucinations finally come to an end, but that doesn’t make the transition into this near-vegetarian state a whole lot easier. In theory, I’m eating better than I ever have. But I don’t feel very healthy.

I can’t help but think as though there isn’t one diet to fit everyone. Vegetarianism simply can’t be the best solution for every individual. Even though I’m able to eat grilled chicken and fish, unlike an actual vegetarian, it clearly isn’t enough to sustain my body.

It’s not as though I don’t believe the studies that suggest my life will be shortened through a diet of red meat and dairy. It’s that I would happily ignore them because a life without is simply not worth living to me. I will gladly take this risk.

And I will once again receive the opportunity to do so.

As of this week, I am medically cleared to slowly reintroduce dairy, meat, acidic foods and fried foods back into my diet. To the cruel diet of the last several weeks, I bid adieu. You will not be missed.

And so, with a double cheeseburger now in my hands, excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

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How a debilitating vegetarian diet robbed me of all of life’s pleasures — and harmed my health

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